


What about Thursday?

by rl4sb4eva



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rl4sb4eva/pseuds/rl4sb4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Bucky are fighting over Natasha.<br/>Natasha decides to take things into her own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What about Thursday?

The training room always has the smell of sweat about it, not matter how much the cleaners try to bleach and scrub the smell out, it lingers, scrubbed into the floors by boots and bodies, soaked into the walls, and coating the mats that litter the floor.

Years of bodies crashing and crunching into every surface in the room, even a dent in the ceiling from a sparring session between Thor and Hulk. 

Bruce has also complained about a smell of sex, and won’t go in there unless he’s about to change.

Natasha can hear the familiar grunts and near-growls as she strips out of her tight catsuit and pulls on training sweats, not her training sweats, she’ll fight in whatever she’s wearing. But this time she needs to make a point.

Clint’s sweatpants hang low on her hips, barely holding up until she pulls the string a little tighter and shifts to get comfortable. She pulls Bucky’s t-shirt over her head and leaves her hair how it falls, even sparing a hand to muss it further, give it that little ‘sex-hair’ edge that she knows makes her eyes look slightly darker, and shadows her forehead.

She slinks from the room, probably the one time she would use the word slink to describe herself, but she’s putting on a show. Good thing she called in a favour with Maria to cut the cameras in the training room and changing area.

She opens the door quietly, and just stands watching the two men grappling on the floor.

Clint gets the advantage for seconds before he loses it again, finding himself in a choke hold with no leverage, until he swivels in the middle, bucks up and flicks the slightly taller man off him. 

He get’s Bucky pinned for seconds before the whole thing repeats itself. 

She watches for about 45 seconds before one of them looks at her. Bucky’s grinning, blood on his gums, and small trickle at the side of his mouth. Then he’s back down on the mat, forearm pressing over his throats, and she notes the small cut Clint has over his eyebrow. 

“Ok, who wants Monday to Wednesday?” She finally says, the words echoing in the empty air of the room.

They stop grappling long enough for her to nearly laugh at the looks on their faces. Before Clint flips Bucky onto his back and stands up, hands palm up in surrender, grinning manically.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks from the floor, curving his back to lie on his elbows, naked chest glistening with sweat and a single drop of blood on his upper chest near his nipple.

“Well, clearly we’ll have to split my time between the two of you. One of you gets Monday to Wednesday, the other gets Friday to Sunday.” She’s playing with the edge of Bucky’s shirt, pulling it and twisting it, in a way she knows is distracting them, she finally settles on pulling the lose fabric back behind her and knotting it tightly, so she is showing her midrift between the tight edge of the top and low waistband. She feels ridiculous, she looks ridiculous, but for all their posturing they are both guys, and she knows she looks good to them. They both enjoy her in their shirts, always too big anyway, and work barely buttoned as she walks around the room.

“What about Thursday?” They both ask, nearly simultaneously, she smiles slightly.

“I’m going to need a day off, given that you are both such studs.” She meets their eyes individually, letting her hands drift to the waistband of the sweatpants, and pushing them even lower.


End file.
